Amanda Rose

by Karen Robards

  He had reached the end of the center hallway and now turned left along the corridor that led to his rooms. Lalanni came out of one of the bedrooms, a duster in her hand. Her eyes widened as she saw her master striding down the hall with a face like the devil’s and Amanda struggling in his arms. The girl knew better than to say anything; Matt’s face as he stalked past her told her that. She moved back into the bedroom, as if to make herself invisible. Amanda felt her face flame at being caught by her maid in such a humiliating position.

  “Damn you, put me down.” Embarrassment added fresh impetus to her struggles. Matt paid no heed to her efforts; he had reached the door to his bedroom and now shouldered through it. “Matt, I won’t . . .”

  Her voice trailed off and her face turned an even brighter shade of scarlet as she saw Lamb, Matt’s valet, place a change of raiment on the bed. He regarded them incredulously.

  “Get out.” Matt’s voice was a snarl. Lamb, flushing, hurried to obey. When the door closed behind him, Matt strode to the bed, sweeping the carefully arranged clothes onto the floor with one hand before dropping Amanda onto the silk bedspread.

  Amanda quickly rolled toward the edge of the bed and to her surprise, she wasn’t stopped. Then she saw why. Matt stood between her and the door, a nasty, mocking smile on his face. As she watched he crossed to the door and turned the key in the lock. Then he came back to stand in the middle of the room. His eyes never left hers as he shrugged out of his coat and began to remove his cravat.

  “This won’t change anything, Matt,” she warned, swallowing as she watched the lacy cravat fall to the floor and his fingers move to the buttons of his shirt.

  “Won’t it?” The last button came out of its hole; Matt pulled the shirttails from his pantaloons and shrugged out of the shirt. Amanda’s mouth grew dry as she stared at the wide, bronzed shoulders and black-furred chest. If she were honest, she would have to admit that she had craved his lovemaking for weeks now. The last time he had taken her, he had introduced her to a range of pleasures that she had never imagined existed. Her cheeks colored at the memory of what he had done to her with his mouth and hands, and her heart began to beat faster. She wanted him—but she wanted him in love. Not like this, with anger and a desire to force her submission fueling his passion.

  “If you do this, you’ll regret it, Matt,” she said softly. Standing in front of one of the two large, many-paned windows that stretched from floor to ceiling and let in a dazzling amount of sunlight, she could see every hair and pore on the bronzed skin while her face remained in shadow. Shirtless, he was magnificent: all hard muscle and rippling sinew, with a broad chest that could have been carved from teak and a flat, tautly muscled abdomen that she knew from experience was as unyielding as a board.

  “I only regret not doing this weeks ago.” He was bending to pull off his boots, then began to unfasten his pantaloons. “God knows why I didn’t, but it doesn’t matter. From now on I’ll make love to you when, where, and how I please. And don’t lie and pretend you’ll find it a hardship. We both know that you enjoy the way I can make you feel—and we have only just begun.”

  “I won’t be your mistress, Matt.” He was sliding the pantaloons down over his legs, stepping out of them and letting them fall carelessly to the floor.

  “I asked you to marry me.” He straightened, looking at her, his eyes suddenly keen. Amanda stared back at him, meeting his eyes calmly, determined not to let him know how affected she was by the sight of his nude body.

  “I won’t do that, either.”

  “Then, damn you to hell,” he said, his voice suddenly thick. In two quick strides he was beside her. Amanda didn’t try to run. There was no way she could escape him, and she knew it. As his arms came around her, pulling her hard against him, she knew that she didn’t want to. She craved him as fiercely as he craved her.

  When his mouth came down on hers, she met his kiss with a bitter passion that left him gasping. He didn’t have to tell her what to do or force her response. Her arms twined about his neck, holding him tightly to her while her hands stroked the black head. She could feel the fine tremor in the hands that moved over her back, struggling with the myriad tiny hooks that closed her dress. She didn’t notice when at last the dress fell open; her whole being focused on the kiss that threatened to steal her soul.

  At first he had meant to hurt her. His mouth had been rough, insulting, as it had closed over hers. But when she opened her mouth to his without resistance, meeting his tongue with hers with a fierce joy, the kiss altered dramatically. It still throbbed with passion, but there was a tenderness in the chiseled mouth as it stroked over her lips that roused an ache deep in her belly. She wanted him—oh, God, she wanted him. More than she had wanted anything in her life.

  She was hardly aware of what he was doing as his hands brushed her clothes from her body. Finally she was naked in his arms, trembling as his hands found her breasts, the sun warm on her bare back and buttocks. Then his hands slid from her breasts down the front of her body and around to close over the curved flesh the sun had warmed. His big hands cupping her bottom, he lifted her, pulling her against him so that she was left in no doubt that she aroused him as much as he aroused her. Clinging to his neck, drowning in his kiss, she felt herself lifted off her feet, and then he was striding with her toward the bed.

  It was a huge four-poster with a gold silk spread. Sunlight streaming in from the gold-curtained windows fell across it, warming the silk, which he didn’t bother to pull aside. Achingly alive in every nerve, Amanda was aware of the sun-warmed silk against her bare back even as Matt came down beside her. Her hands moved restlessly over his shoulders, beseeching, as he kissed her deeply. She felt his hands in her hair as he withdrew the pins that secured her chignon. Then he was spreading her hair out against the silk, smoothing the thick waves. After a moment his mouth left hers and he buried his face in the soft fire of her hair.

  “Matt . . .” she whispered in a low, aching voice as her hands ran over his shoulders and back. The contrast between the satiny skin of his shoulders and the rough mass of scars lower down twisted like a knife in her heart. She ran her fingers lightly, delicately over the raised surface. He shuddered against her. Amanda felt the movement of his big body with every centimeter of her skin. Then he moved on top of her, his mouth seeking and finding hers with a hungry eroticism that shook her to the depths of her being.

  There was no hesitation—they wanted each other too much. Amanda twined her legs around his waist even as he settled himself between them, on fire for him, lifting her body in shameless need. He took her, fiercely, thrusting inside her with a flaming passion of his own. Amanda cried out, then cried out again as he repeated the movement. Then she was dissolving in a wave of bliss unlike anything she had known.

  He was tireless. After that first time he took her again and again, in ways she had never dreamed a man could take a woman while the sun sank outside the windows and darkness stole over them like a velvet blanket. If she had been capable of conscious thought, she would have been shocked at some aspects of their lovemaking. But she was aware only of the volcanic heat of their passion, and how wildly she wanted him.

  The moon had risen and was peering at them through the window when they both succumbed at last to an exhausted sleep.

  Amanda awoke slowly, conscious of a penetrating warmth against her breasts and belly and thighs and around a narrow portion of her waist; her buttocks were cold. Frowning, she opened her eyes. Had she kicked the covers off half her body? She found herself staring directly at Matt’s hard brown neck, and then she understood the reason for the mysterious disparity in temperature. He was holding her close against his chest, his arm around her waist and one muscular thigh thrown over both her legs. Everywhere he touched her, her body was toasty warm. But they were both naked, lying on top of the rumpled bedspread, and her buttocks were exposed to the night air.

  The memory of what they had done, of her own wanton response, warmed her cheeks. He h
ad treated her like something he owned, as if she had been bought and paid for, and she had reveled in it. How would she face him again without blushing? And then it came to her that she wouldn’t, couldn’t. Because she had refused his proposal of marriage, he had made her his mistress with a vengeance. But Amanda knew she couldn’t live with either alternative—without love.

  He had said many things in the heat of passion, but the word “love” had never passed his lips. And with good reason: he didn’t love her. She doubted that he was capable of loving a woman. Oh, he wanted her; he had made that abundantly plain. But she needed more, much more. She needed to own him as he owned her, body and soul—and heart.

  There was one other choice left to her. She could, as she had threatened earlier, leave him. Then she had been speaking in anger, and she doubted that, if he had persisted in his arguments, she would have acted on her threat. But now much more than anger was involved. Vividly she remembered that night in the cave, the first night he had kissed her, when he had warned her not to fall in love with him, warned her that he would break her heart. Well, she hadn’t listened—and he hadn’t lied. She had fallen in love with him as passionately as it was possible for a woman to love a man, and her heart felt as though it lay shattered in tiny, jagged shards inside her chest. She loved him—but he wanted only her body. That was the truth, however painful she might find it. She had to get away from him if she was ever to have a hope of repairing her fractured heart.

  But where could she go? If she stayed in New Orleans, he would search for her, at least while his passion raged at its present white-hot intensity. Yes, she would have to leave New Orleans, but she was without funds or friends. Suddenly Mother Superior’s kindly old face appeared in her mind’s eye. If she returned to the convent, the sisters would take her in, she knew. The calm serenity of her days there beckoned to her. She needed peace now, whereas before she had craved adventure. Well, she had had her adventure, and it had been far more pain than pleasure. Suddenly she realized the answer to all her problems: she would return to the convent and, in time, perhaps take her vows. A life without pain or worry seemed infinitely appealing.

  How would she get there? Amanda thought for a moment, and then the solution appeared. Zeke was leaving tomorrow—today—for England. If he would take her with him and deposit her at Lands End . . .

  But first she had to get away from Matt. Her head was tucked cozily beneath his chin so that she couldn’t see his face, but his deep, even breathing indicated he was still asleep. Even as she listened, a shallow snore confirmed her supposition. All she had to do was get out of the bed without waking him, dress, fling some clothes into a bag, and leave. But she had to hurry. If she knew aught about ships Zeke’s would sail at dawn.

  chapter twenty-four

  It was a beautiful day, bright and sunny, the antithesis of Amanda’s mood. The Eloise had been at sea for ten days; Amanda stood at the rail, staring glumly at the sparkling blue waves as they rolled and curled as far as the eye could see. She had achieved her goal: she had left Matt and was returning now to the convent. But she was miserable. And beginning to wonder if leaving Matt hadn’t been a dreadful mistake.

  Zeke had tried to talk her out of it. He had almost refused to take her with him, but at the end desperation had sent two big tears coursing down her cheeks, and, like his brother, Zeke was not proof against feminine tears. So he had allowed her on board, and the Eloise had sailed with the dawn. Since then, Zeke had grown progressively gloomier. He seemed to feel, like Amanda, that he had made a dreadful mistake.

  To make matters worse, Amanda had been suffering from seasickness for almost the last week. Which was ridiculous, as the sea was as smooth as glass. But she was nauseated much of the time, unable to eat the shipboard fare. Zeke, becoming aware of her distress, had special dishes made up for her to tempt her appetite, but they suffered the same dismal fate as everything else she ate. Amanda supposed that her stomach must be reacting to her inner distress. It seemed that her whole body was rebelling against leaving Matt.

  “Amanda.” Zeke was coming down the stairs from the quarterdeck. Amanda turned to smile at him, unaware that she was so pale that she looked almost ghostly, and that her eyes were made even larger by the dark smudges beneath them. In the simple lavender-striped muslin day dress she wore, she looked almost fragile, her waist made tiny by the lavender sash, the dropped neckline revealing the delicate bones in her shoulders.

  “You look ghastly,” he said bluntly, crossing to stand beside her and looking down at her with concern. Amanda made a face at him.

  “Thank you. You do know how to charm a lady.”

  He responded with a wry smile, reminding her so much of Matt that she felt a pang. She averted her eyes from his narrow face to stare again at the sea.

  “Benson, the cook, tells me that you didn’t eat anything again this morning.”

  “What is the use? You know as well as I that whatever I eat will come right back up again. Besides, I wasn’t hungry.”

  “If you don’t eat, you’ll make yourself ill.”

  “I’m ill now.” That indisputable truth silenced him momentarily. Amanda knew he was genuinely concerned about her, and she appreciated it, but she was so miserable that she didn’t want to talk about it. The state of her stomach was an annoyance, but it was not the worst of her distress. Her damaged heart was that.

  “Amanda.” Zeke’s normally confident voice was oddly hesitant. It arrested Amanda’s attention, and she turned to look at him, her brows lifted questioningly. She had not bothered to dress her hair that morning, had only run a brush through the thick waves and secured them back from her face with a lavender ribbon. The simple style made her look even younger than she was, and Zeke’s frown deepened.

  “Yes?” she said when it appeared that he wasn’t going to say anything more. His eyes slid from her face to the sea, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable. Amanda’s puzzlement grew.

  “Amanda, forgive me for asking this, but . . . how long has it been since you’ve had your monthly time?” His face was scarlet as he put the question, and his eyes remained firmly fixed on the sea. Amanda blushed, too. A gentleman did not ask such a thing. Indeed, Amanda, like most of her sex, liked to think that men had almost no knowledge of a woman’s bodily functions.

  “I don’t think that is your concern,” she began stiffly. He turned to look at her, his expression intent, although the embarrassed color remained in his face.

  “Do think about it, Amanda,” he said softly, looking grave. It had been a while, she remembered. Not since before Matt had had her dragooned aboard the Clorimunda . . .

  “Oh, no,” she whispered, appalled.

  “My God,” Zeke groaned, the color fading from his face. Apparently her horror-stricken voice was all the answer he needed. “I knew I should never have brought you with me. Matt will have my head on a platter when he finds out about this. You’re carrying his child, and I’m taking you halfway around the world.”

  “It’s nothing to do with him.” Amanda raised her chin defiantly. Now was not the time to dwell on what she had discovered, to think what she would do now that she knew she was expecting a child. Under the circumstances, she could not even be sure that the convent would take her in. An unmarried girl who was with child—it was the ultimate in disgrace.

  “You don’t know much about it if you think that.” Zeke’s voice was dry. Amanda glared at him, blushed, and turned to stare back out to sea. “Well, there’s no help for it. You won’t be disembarking, my girl. You’re coming back to New Orleans with me.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Oh, yes, you are. Like it or not, you’re carrying my brother’s child. That makes you my responsibility until you are safely back with Matt.”

  “I don’t want to go back to Matt.”

  “But, you will.” They glared at each other. Then Zeke’s eyes gentled. “He’ll marry you, Amanda, you’ll see. Matt wouldn’t be Matt if he didn’t do the honorable thi
ng.”

  That flicked Amanda on a raw spot. She didn’t want him to do the honorable thing. She wanted him to love her, damn it.

  “I don’t want him to do the honorable thing! He’s already offered to, and I refused him.”

  “He asked you to marry him?” If possible, Zeke sounded more appalled than she had when the significance of her missed courses had become clear to her. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “You didn’t ask me.”

  Zeke looked harassed. “Knowing Matt, it never occurred to me that he’d propose marriage to you—not without a compelling reason. He thinks marriage is a trap for fools—he’s told me so times out of mind.”

  “Then I’m more glad than ever that I refused him,” Amanda answered harshly.

  Zeke groaned, rolling his eyes upward in a silent plea for strength before looking at Amanda again.

  “I knew I should have steered clear of this. Damn it, Matt will have my hide, and I won’t blame him. Why the hell didn’t you tell me he wanted to marry you? I’d never have let you come aboard if I’d known. Instead you cried to get your own way.” He sounded thoroughly disgusted.

  “It worked, didn’t it?” Amanda glared at him. His attitude infuriated her. Because she was carrying Matt’s child, Zeke was ready to hand her over to Matt, lock, stock, and barrel. But she wasn’t having any of that, thank you very much. Matt might be hard to defy, but she wasn’t about to knuckle under to Zeke.

  “God, I see now what my brother was up against. I’m surprised he hasn’t strangled you. I’m tempted to myself.”

  “Just you try, Zeke Grayson.” Amanda tilted her chin at him belligerently.

  Zeke stared down at her small, slender frame and had to laugh. “Matt told me you were a termagant, but I didn’t believe him. Seems I’ve wronged him all around.”

  “I won’t go back to him, Zeke.” Amanda’s anger had faded, and she spoke with quiet determination. Zeke’s eyes turned serious, too, as they met hers.